


A Safe Distance

by Hanatamago



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Abyss - Freeform, Aftercare, Alcohol, Balthus Grappling with His Sexuality, Emotions, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Pining, Scars, Spoilers if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22750816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanatamago/pseuds/Hanatamago
Summary: You can stay here, with me. I don’t mind...He won’t ask, because he can’t. It’s not fair to use him for that too.---A brief look at how Yuri relies on Balthus before the events of the side story. Mini spoilers for Yuri's frame of reference.
Relationships: Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Comments: 50
Kudos: 316





	1. A Safe Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Normally I stew on things for a while before writing them, but I was possessed by Yuri Fire Emblem, and here we are.

Deep crimson candles glow in the library. It’s magic - fire magic, but a tamer kind. Honestly, it makes for a pretty shit lamp, but at least there’s no risk of a tumbling candle setting the whole thing aflame. Abyss is delicate in that way. One small, accidental fire is all it takes to smoke the tunnels. They’re lucky Constance was around last time, ready with an ice spell, and always willing to prove herself in House Nuvelle’s name. 

That said, the lamp is shit. The books are shit. Some mercenary on the surface is running around with the Sword of the Creator, and Yuri can’t find the missing piece to this puzzle. He needs a plan. He needs an ace. Damnit. Yuri sighs. The numbers don’t look good. No matter how many times he’s done the math, Yuri can’t see the path out, not yet. Too many variables. 

The dull flame vanishes without a wisp of smoke. Magic. There once, then gone without a trace, kind of like people… or something. Well, that’s that. Delirious philosophical musing signals that he’s not getting anything else done today. Thinking, Yuri holds, is only good up until a point. Like fighting - read your opponent, fake them out, punish their weaknesses, but doing that math hardly matters if you forget to swing the damned blade. It’s too easy to get lost in the odds. Overthinking won’t save him from a blade, nor from a curse. A Hero’s Relic, strange mages, curses from the Goddess herself - someone new must be dealing the cards.

He's got to clear his mind. Refocus. Start again tomorrow.

_“You don’t look busy.” Yuri smirked, cutting in at the end of a particularly showy set of grappling forms. “Join me tonight?” No use in being subtle. Balthus isn’t good with ‘subtle’. It’s not much of a secret, anyway._

It’s too much to plan for. Abyss first, and all of its people. Second, his family, who he loves, but don’t have the numbers over all the vulnerable ones he’s sworn to protect. Third, his companions, the Ashen Wolves, and dead last, himself. The ranking is only a formality. There will be a plan that saves them all. There has to be. Love is illogical. It’s sloppy. Yuri can find a chink in the armor, he just has to look closer. He just has to think.

When he’s working with a full deck, that is. It’s too soon to judge, and that Hero’s Relic may well be a factor. Best to wait, best to let things play out, while he’s still got time to watch.

Balthus slips into Yuri’s room later that night, dripping of musk and rainwater. Hm, and a pinch of cologne, too... He must have scavenged that somewhere. Plenty of nobles on the surface, surely one bottle won’t be missed. Everything in Abyss gets grimy so quickly, people included. When they did siphon water from the monastery’s bathhouse, the taps ran tepid one day in a blue moon, and frigid all the rest. Still, it was clean, at least. Mostly clean. Nowadays, a few barrels collect rainwater from the cracks in crumbling ceilings, and they bring barrels down from above every so often. It’s not much, but it works, though water stays scarce.

And for everything else they have on their minds, Balthus still tries to clean up for him. Yuri never asked him to - he’d take Balthus sweaty and grimy, it would be enough - but he… Balthus remembers the little things. He’s funny like that. For someone so brutish, he’s surprisingly thoughtful sometimes. He remembers to slip his boots off at Yuri’s door and to be quiet when he walks down the halls with sleeping families. In the markets, he shares bits of jerky with the kids and puts on a show when they watch him train. In here, when they’re alone, Balthus remembers what he likes. He knows how to please. Heh, Yuri might actually believe he was raised in the nobility.

Yuri trusts him with this. Well, it’s not that Yuri trusts him, that’s too difficult. It’s not the right word, either. It’s just, Yuri doesn’t fear Balthus will betray him. The odds are too low. Balthus isn’t pure, but he’s dense. He’s simple. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and Yuri doesn’t have to _think_ so much about how he feels. He’s predictable. Yuri rolls up his parchment, setting aside his quill and the flickering lamp as Balthus draws near.

It’s wretched to use him like this, but Yuri needs it. He needs not to think so damn much, just for a moment. He needs the feel of Balthus’s calloused hand slipping between the buttons of his tunic and his hot breath fanning against his neck. Balthus gazes up to meet his eyes, answered only by a small nod. It’s the most Yuri can manage when he’s this hazy with lust and troublesome thoughts. It’s enough; he’s a sweet guy. He doesn’t have to ask, but he always does.

Air hits his skin a touch colder than he expected. Yuri winces. It’s only a carnal matter. A quick fuck to get his mind off things. And hey, Balthus seems to enjoy it too, right? So maybe it’s not all that unfair. It’s reckless, surely, but maybe it’s not cruel.

It’s Balthus, only Balthus he can trust with this, in all these years. Not like he has a lot of options down in Abyss, what with his tastes, but… If Yuri had to pick, it would be someone like him. He’s strong, and Goddess, he knows it, yet it’s endearing in a goofy macho way. He’s brash, but not unkind. He’s stupid, but Yuri loves-

Yuri loves the way he smiles. It’s always so earnest. He’s easy. He focuses on the way the crumbling bricks jut into his back where Balthus has him pinned against the wall. The feel of it - his touch, his scent, the scars on his hands dragging across his hips...

“You okay, Boss?” Balthus’s stubble brushes against his collarbone.

“...Fine.” Yuri tangles his fingers into that coarse, wild hair and tugs him closer, guiding his lips back into the crook of his neck. 

He gets worried when Yuri goes quiet like this. It’s really nothing to be concerned about. Only, Balthus is _loud_ , like it’s in his very essence. He’s a showman, a gladiator to the core. A man made of light and sun, nothing like his own shadows. Quiet means staying alive, where Yuri’s from. He’s not doing a bad job - he’s told Balthus as much. It’s the opposite, actually. Balthus is wonderful at this part, teasing Yuri’s sun-starved skin with lips and teeth, a perfect mix of caring and rough. _Divine_ , Yuri would say, if the word still held any weight.

Later on, when Balthus puffs out the small lamp in Yuri’s room, he’ll stand at the precipice - the thick wooden door between this sanctuary and the winding, muggy halls of Abyss. Balthus will look back, and for the hundredth time, Yuri will wish he could manage to ask him to stay. It’s just for the night, just for warmth. It doesn’t mean anything. It aches and twists in his throat.

_“Pretty drafty out there, Balthus,” or “No point in putting your boots back on now.”_

_“Heard some rumors of mercenaries in the north tunnels, it’s probably not safe to be walking alone.”_

_“Aren’t your legs sore after that? You don’t have to walk all the way back.”_

_“Whatever, you can stay. Bed’s colder without you.”_

Or...

_You can stay here, with me. I don’t mind..._

He won’t ask, because he can’t. It’s not fair to use him for that too. Distantly, Yuri wonders if Balthus will ever be able to forgive him. For all that he’s done, and all that’s to come, too. If anyone can, it’d be him, but… Yuri won’t make that wager. It’s not a certainty.

“Hey, you seem real out of it.” Balthus pulls away, eyeing him curiously. Skin prickles up along his neck on a path tread by Balthus’s lips. He’s not scolding, he’s not even judging. Somehow, despite all odds, he has to know what this means to Yuri. It’s a good distraction, nothing more.

“Right,” Yuri shivers, mourning Balthus’s warmth, “Need you to snap me out of it... I suppose you’re right, thinking too much is-” 

Balthus’s lips crash against his, chapped and rough as the rest of him. Messy, demanding. Experienced, but clumsy with want. Divine… They’re not supposed to kiss, it’s a rule. And then - too quickly - it’s over...

“Damn, I didn’t…” Balthus pales, “Sorry about-” He… he tasted like salt.

“I-it’s fine,” He takes a shaky breath, grasping at his lost composure. They don’t kiss. Fuck, they don’t kiss for a reason. It feels too real that way, it’s too close. It’s dangerous. It’s not a safe bet, it makes him too vulnerable. And yet, that danger isn’t the reason his heart hammers in his chest.

“I should’ve-” To hell with it. Yuri leans up, pressing their lips back together. It’s not - it doesn’t matter. In this room, in these four drab walls, lit with shitty, flickering lamps, in this stagnant, muggy air, he’s promised to let himself stop thinking, so he does.

“Heh, you snapped me out of it, didn’t you?” Yuri smirks, but it’s far too fragile. Inexperience, anticipation… A fluttery breeze tumbles around in his chest, threatening to fly free of its cage. Balthus kisses like fire - scorching and twice as bright. Warm in a way Yuri hasn’t known in ages. Abyss is crumbling from the inside out; if he’s not careful, none of them will make it to the end. But this… 

Maybe it’s worth the risk, at least once, while there’s still time.


	2. Seven to One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PWP(?) but make it introspective.
> 
> Oh, and make it introspective _Balthus_.

Yuri’s too fuckin’ pretty to be a mortal man.

He’s interested in coin, fights, and _women_. Well, shit, maybe Holst too, once or twice when they were both drunk out of their minds. Fact is, Balthus is only interested in a few things on this Goddess-blessed earth, and most of it comes with odds and debts. Most of it gets him in trouble at some point. And shit, maybe this will too, but fuck, Yuri’s something else. Way prettier than any woman, and way too smart for someone like him.

And he says it doesn’t come with any strings attached, but that’s not quite right. See, Yuri’s got this thing about him, like a damn spell Balthus can’t shake. He’s got this pale skin that glitters, even down here in the dim light, and this soft, lilac hair that always smells like wildflowers. When he grins, it’s sharp - cunning, like a fox - the type of smile Holst always warned his little sis about. Yuri’s danger, but Balthus has never been so great at staying safe.

“My, Balthus, is this how you take your friends to tea?” Quiet laughter puffs across his back as Balthus slides a hand under Yuri’s thighs, tossing him up over his shoulder. 

It’s a real laugh, he’s pretty sure of that. He knows Yuri’s sounds by now, from the cold, fake chuckles to exasperated sighs as mercenaries push into their base, soon to be hopelessly lost in Abyss’s tunnels. When he’s impatient, he clicks his heels against the tile, and when he’s nervous for real, he doesn’t make a sound. Now, he knows his secret sounds too, his soft little gasps when Balthus nips his shoulder and the moans he muffles in his hand when Balthus _really_ has him at the edge. 

He plops Yuri on the bed, lacking the grace he should probably use for such a delicate creature. Well, Yuri’s not really so delicate. Balthus knows that firsthand, he’s seen him fight! He can take care of himself, and he’s damn scary, too. He’s so quick on his feet that most mercs can’t even land a hit, and when he finds an opening, they’re gone before they even know it.

Nah, he’s not too fragile, but it’s easy to forget that when he looks at Yuri’s skin, pale and smooth as porcelain. Even stripped of his chains and silver buttons, he shines under the lamplight. Power thrums beneath his skin, loud and strong as the fire in his own blood. It’s crazy that Yuri lets him so close - lets him look, lets him _touch_. He’s overwhelming, sometimes. Balthus isn’t nervous or anything like that - he’s gorgeous! Of course Yuri wants his ass, he’s statuesque as a fuckin’ statue! Nah, he’s not nervous, just careful, because Yuri’s too pretty to break. And Balthus is… He’s not known for being careful. He just doesn’t want to fuck this all up, whatever _this_ is.

“Overdressed, aren’t we?” Yuri nudges his jacket.

“What, haven’t looked your fill?” Balthus grins. Of course he hasn’t! Balthus doesn’t even wear a shirt half the time, but when they’re like this, it’s different. Yuri’s eyes sweep over him with a new kind of hunger, like his muscles only exist when he’s really showing them off. Yuri likes to take his time touching him, exploring all the creases and curves of his body like he’s measuring him to some specification, and quite pleased with the results.

He takes his sweet time shrugging off his blazer. He should’ve thought to leave the gauntlets on, so he could do a little striptease - maybe next time he’ll remember. Balthus presses him into the blankets, deftly pulling at the laces of his breeches as he brushes his lips across Yuri’s bare shoulders. Slowly, aimlessly, he meanders down to his collarbones, and lower still to his stomach. Each time he passes a scar, he pauses, kissing and dragging his teeth over the jagged marks to pay tribute.

Yuri always faces him, chest to chest, so Balthus can’t see the silvery scars dripping down his back, but he knows. Balthus has plenty of scars from bar fights and real battles, but Yuri won’t have him look upon his own. Yet, he can feel them under his fingertips when he rubs circles between Yuri’s shoulder blades in the afterglow. He’s seen them a few times, when Yuri moved to grab a vial of oil, or when he lost his shirt under the bed. Thick lines, searing from his neck to his tailbone. Balthus can guess what they are; nobody gets scars like that on accident.

If it’s what Yuri wants, he won’t look. He won’t speak of them, and he’ll pretend he never even saw them for real. Besides, Yuri’s got so much more to look at, like shiny glossed lips that smudge at the edges as the night creeps on. Hazy pink powder dusted just above his eyelashes sparkles in the light. His eyes are doubly entrancing, lavender pools deep enough he could fall in and forget what he’s thinking entirely, sometimes.

It’s easy to lose himself here and get all caught up in exploring Yuri’s skin, marking him in places only he’ll ever get to see. At least, he hopes he’s the only one. Yuri could be fucking half of Abyss with his looks, but even if he is, Balthus hopes it’s not the same with them. Balthus wants to be the only one who sees him shivering and moaning into his hand, the only one who can make his mind go blank with pleasure. An ugly, jealous part of him wants to know that Yuri only comes to _him_ when he wants his brains fucked out.

But they’re not anything like that - not exclusive, you know? If Yuri wanted to get with another man - or woman, if he likes ‘em like that - Balthus wouldn’t try to stop him, but it’d hurt like a real gut punch. The room spins for a second, breaking him out of his thoughts. Suddenly, Balthus lies back on the bed, watching spellbound as that damned trickster climbs over him, straddling his waist.

“Eyes on me, friend,” Yuri whispers, yanking him close by his chain collar. Damn, he’s got it bad… He glances back up to Yuri’s eyes, dancing with lamplight. He settles onto Balthus’s lap, reaching back to toy with Balthus through his clothes.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Yuri smirks. Balthus can only groan in response, grinding his hips upwards to chase the faintest hope of friction. No dice, but he’s always been one to push his luck. He leans up, capturing Yuri’s lips in a deep, probing kiss. It’s nice kissing him. He’s sweet, like honey and fruits and secretly, Balthus wants to see how he’ll look with his gloss smudged to hell. Balthus won’t ever tell him, but messing him up is part of the fun. He’s gorgeous when he’s all put together and fancy, but when Yuri falls apart, hair sticking to his brow and flushed down to his chest... Fuck, he’s pretty like that, too.

It’s intoxicating to kiss him. Not just the taste, not just the velvet of Yuri’s thin tongue dancing with his own, but the tiny, affected sounds he makes, too. His shaky breaths and quiet whines as Balthus holds him tight, grinding up against his ass. Panting, Yuri pulls away to slip out of his own breeches and smallclothes. Balthus rushes to follow suit.

He’s distracting, charming in a way no one should have any right to be. A master of misdirection, all smoke and mirrors. He’s good at it; it’s his thing, like Balthus and a good punch. Only, Yuri punches with his mind or something like that. Clearly, he’s gotten distracted yet again. He gasps as Yuri’s hand wraps around his cock, slicking it in cool oil. That mischievous, dangerous little glint in his eye shines as he grinds back against him, teasing until Balthus threatens to breach him.

“Take it slow as you need, Boss.”

“Yuri.” He whispers. Balthus raises an eyebrow. “Try it on, see how it rolls off the tongue.” 

He slides down, barely even an inch and fuck, it’s overwhelming. He’s so damned tight, Balthus nearly forgets how to speak. It knocks the wind out of him, and Yuri hasn’t even really started to mind punch him yet. Through the haze, he makes out Yuri’s shallow, unsteady breathing as he takes him in.

“Yuri… Yeah...” Balthus leans back against the headboard, gripping Yuri’s hips tight to support him as he sways. Yuri curses under his breath, tightening when Balthus fills him all the way to the hilt.

“Ey, relax… It’ll hurt less, right?” Goddess, someone like him should be wrapped in silks and swan feathers, dripping in gems and silver, not scavenging here in Abyss. Balthus doesn’t know why he’s here, but he guesses it’s something big. He’s not a petty thief, that’s for damn sure, and he’s too smart to get caught up in something dumb like himself. Plus, he acts like a noble in all but talk. Sure, he swears like a sailor and talks raunchy like the rest of ‘em, but he puts himself together so meticulously, and he’s got that unreadable mask, one like his stepmother always wore, only prettier.

“Yeah,” Yuri glares at him, softened by the lust clouding over his eyes, “Thanks for the reminder. I’d forgotten how to take dick in the last week.” 

Still, Yuri can’t hide his wince as he tries to move. Seems like he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Balthus massages Yuri’s hips, gently squeezing his flanks to sooth him. Yuri shifts his weight backward, taking him just the smallest inch deeper - Balthus groans and lets his head flop back against the headboard.

“Can’t believe you doubted me…” Yuri laughs, “You sound nice like that.” Balthus grins, too dazed to think of a response.

Slowly, Yuri lifts his hips up. He pauses, shivering before he plunges down in a deep, graceful descent. Balthus rolls his hips, surging up to meet him when he’s got a bit of a rhythm. Yuri always likes it this way at first, so he’s in control. At least, ‘till his legs get wobbly and he can’t talk straight. Balthus can’t complain; he’s got the best seat in the house!

A muffled cry escapes from Yuri’s mouth as he finds that angle, brushing up against that place inside him Balthus knows like the back of his hand. He squirms, fucking himself in shallow dips, again and again, just at the edge, just enough to make him shiver and moan. He’s just teasing, working himself up while he’s still got enough sense to do it, but hell if it ain’t something to watch. Tiny tears shimmer at the corners of his eyes as he gasps into his hand, rocking back and forth. Honest to the Goddess, Balthus could get off on just watching him this way. Yuri slows, knees shaking weakly as he braces himself on Balthus’s chest. The flickering lamp arcs across the room as it spins, and all of a sudden, he’s kneeling between Yuri’s legs, watching as he shifts up against the pillows and tries to get comfortable.

“Do me a favor and fuck me?” Yuri winks at him, still panting. A damned charlatan through and through, but he’ll comply. Goddess, of course, he’ll comply.

Heavy iron chains clink together as he thrusts in, slow and deep, hard as he can bear. Yuri always wants it harder these days, like it's some sort of fucking penance. He says it’s nice, that he relishes in the burn, finds some sort of comfort in the bruises - Balthus doesn’t get it. Why would anyone wanna hurt like that? It’s gotta be a real drag the day after. Yuri always favors a different stance the next day, he’s slower to rise and meet the Wolves for breakfast. 

“I’ll take care of you,” Balthus murmurs, hooking Yuri’s leg over his shoulder. “I’ll give you what you need…”

He's nearly gone, slurring his words and sighing through parted, sullied lips. Even in the throes of pleasure, he's beautiful. Even without his perfect, sharp edges and meticulous lines of makeup, he's polished, and his eyes - he's gorgeous when he's not thinking so damn hard. Lilac hair spills out over the pillows, and he limply clutches at the twisted blankets below, barely holding onto his very senses.

Maybe he's a sap, but he’s always been one to double down. Balthus pushes his luck one more time. His calloused fingers slide up against Yuri's wrist, curling around his palm. Yeah, yeah, it’s real mushy, but he’s a sucker for hand-holding.

"Good?" Balthus shudders as he feels Yuri's fingers snake between his own. He’s damn close, but he can hold on just a little longer. Yuri tries to nod, glassy-eyed as he looks up and fails to bite back a moan when Balthus slams up into him just right. For now, the mask is gone. Just for a little while longer, while Balthus has him at the edge. 

He wonders how it feels to be all fucked out like that - how Yuri must feel, sore and mindless with the weight of Balthus inside him for ages after… It seems painful, probably, but fuck if it doesn’t turn him on, just to know that he feels it into the next day. Yuri moans into the heel of his hand, tensing and shaking like he’s about to break, but that’s how he knows it’s good. Balthus can’t last much longer like this, not with Yuri unraveled beneath him, but Yuri won’t last either. Balthus leans in for the killing blow.

“Gorgeous,” He murmurs, gently slotting his lips into Yuri’s own. It’s tender and kind, so unlike the rest of him. It’s praise, not a punishment. It’s sweet and light, nothing like their jagged scars and the heavy burden of the world outside this door. It feels better this way, feels _right_.

Odds are, he’s in too deep with this guy, and odds are, he doesn’t know when to fold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this is by far the dumbest, most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. Balthus is just so, so much fun to write. But I do also write other stuff that's longer and more serious. And you should check it out if you like worldbuilding and stuff that isn't me rambling about a true rarepair that I'm on a mission to make content for. 
> 
> I haven't done anything with my lovely Ashen Wolves in the main story since my good save file when the DLC came out was literally the reunion chapter, so I won't get to use them for a bit. Once I do, though, I might try to write a longer fic for them that follows the DLC plot.
> 
> Twitter: @hanatamagos  
> (send me Balthuri)


	3. Bluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Balthursday!  
> Blame the social distancing. I have so many other things to write, and yet I come back to my boys.

Damn…

Balthus flops down on the mattress beside Yuri, sweaty and spent. For a moment, it’s just the two of them, breathing. Staring up at the chips in the ceiling where shadows wave in the lamplight. Laying there, quiet as the air cools on their skin, and the river of time flows right around them like they’re on an island all their own. Balthus reaches out, snaking his arm around Yuri’s waist as he pulls him into his side. He lets out a cute little grumble, but shifts to accommodate, pressing his head into Balthus’s shoulder, breathing him in.

Yuri’s fingers dig into the blankets. He’s shivering, shielding himself from the world. He gets like this sometimes, after they…. Fuck? It doesn’t seem like quite the right word, not after tonight, but that’s the only word there is for it. Yuri gets shy, and Balthus doesn’t really get it. Sure, his makeup gets all runny, and yeah, they’re both a mess, but come on - he’s gorgeous. What’s he got to be shy about?

But he’s done this a time or two, so he gets that it’s a little deeper than that. Yuri’s complicated. That’s an understatement, clearly. Yuri’s like a book, but one written in a language he can’t read. All he can do is try to make sense of the symbols, or find some kind of pattern. The codes and tells swim in his mind, and he knows he’ll never understand all of it, not fully. But he gets that this is a _thing_ for him. Sometimes it’s nothing, sometimes it’s a big deal. He gets timid like this, almost kind of ashamed like he’s done something wrong. But it isn’t wrong, is it? They’re both consenting adults, and the sex is great!

And… Balthus wishes that’s all it was for him, but it’s not. He gathers Yuri up in his arms and holds him close. He traces gentle shapes into his arms and sides, murmuring sweet things to him as he falls back down to the earth. This is the best part, honestly. All the parts are good parts, like really good, but Balthus is weirdly into this when it’s him. He’s beautiful, but that’s obvious. He’s perfect and all polished up, like a pretty porcelain doll, but when he cracks, it’s like the whole damn ocean crashes onto shore, and Balthus is ten feet below the surface, stilled under the weight of the water. He glows - no, he blazes like the midday sun, and Balthus is content to burn in his light. If it’s a _thing_ , then, yeah, that’s okay. Balthus promises to be there to catch him every time he falls - if he wants that. Balthus presses kisses into his hair and writes prayers into his skin, a blessing for every inch of him. 

“Easy,” Balthus whispers. Yuri’s faint tremors still. “Gonna go get a washcloth, okay?” 

“Desk, bottom drawer.” Yuri murmurs, his voice low and rough, “Clay bottle, can’t miss it.”

A quick kiss on the temple, then Balthus rolls off the mattress to loot the desk. Eventually, he comes up with a waterskin, Yuri’s ceramic bottle, corked and sealed with wax, and two cotton cloths. He dampens the cloths in a small bronze basin by Yuri’s vanity, tucked in between his fancy paints. By the time he gets back to the bed, Yuri’s sitting up, half draped in a woolen blanket that frays at the edges. Balthus hands over the waterskin, motioning for him to drink, and he does, slowly. Just a few sips as Balthus drags a cloth over their skin, wiping them clean, or clean as they’re gonna get until the next rainfall. Yuri hands back the waterskin, trading it for the other cloth to blot away the smudged pigments on his face. When he’s done, he looks mostly the same, to Balthus’s eyes. Maybe he’s a little paler, like a little less vibrant than before, but he’s still damn pretty. Closer, somehow… Like he’s not so untouchable, not so distant.

“Where’d you even get this?” Balthus pulls away the seal with a tiny white ribbon sticking out of the wax, then pops the cork. It’s not too uncommon for them to drink afterward, but usually, it’s Balthus that brings the booze, even if Yuri says he has shit taste. Hey, it’s all about bang for the buck, right?

“Up above,” Yuri grins, “Not like the monks are gonna miss it, yeah?” Yuri’s far better at the whole stealing thing. Well, Balthus can do the knocking people out part, but the sneaking gets a little dicey. Now, Balthus comes by most of his money fair and square - making deals and working odd jobs. He’s got a code, y’know? But really, even if he did want to swipe something from up top, the guards would see him coming a mile away. So when they need something, as in _really_ need it, Yuri ‘takes care of it’, and the supplies appear in the markets sometime in the next couple days. It doesn’t need to be him. They’re all outcasts down here, not like there’s any shortage of adept thieves, but Yuri doesn’t like the Abyssians putting their own lives on the line. At least, not when it matters so much.

Yuri takes a long drink before he passes it back. He can hold his liquor, not as well as Balthus, though. All the meat’s gotta count for something! In all honesty, he can’t really count this as a necessity, but sometimes Abyssians gotta indulge too, right? It’s a real nice ale, some sweet drink that tastes like honey and apples. It’s smooth, but it packs a punch, too!

It’s quiet for a bit. Not silent, because Balthus fills the air with mistold stories he heard on the road and ridiculous theories about who Yuri really is and why he’s here. Maybe they’re dumb - they’re definitely dumb - but musing about him being an exiled prince from Dagda is fun, and it makes Yuri smile. That’s pretty worthwhile, ain’t it?

They go on like that for a while, passing the mead back and forth, saying dumb shit… It’s good. Yuri’s good like this, like he’s just another guy on the road, not the all-powerful Lord of the Underground. His companionship is nice, and the booze is good, and it’s like… It’s like Balthus wouldn’t mind doing this for a while, like a couple years, even. He’s still gotta repay his debts at some point, but in the meantime, something like this could be nice, yeah? 

It’s the liquor that makes his heart flutter when Yuri turns to him with that cocky little smirk, eyebrow raised like he’s caught Balthus right where he wants him. His breathing stutters when Yuri walks his fingers up Balthus’s arm, ‘cause he’s tipsy. And ‘cause he doesn’t know what to do with Yuri leaning over him, gazing down at him with a storm in his eyes, purple grey and rumbling with thunder, looking like he’s gonna eat Balthus alive - and why does he suddenly _want_ that so bad? 

Yuri’s lips are thin and soft, like satin, totally different now that he’s wiped away the slippery gloss that makes them shine. Balthus might actually like it better this way. The flowery fragrance is fine, but the oil’s got a weird texture. He tastes like the honeyed fruit from the mead. Balthus doesn’t really register that Yuri’s actually kissing him until his hips shift back in his hands - woah, when did Balthus start holding him like this?

“Forgive me…?” Yuri whispers against his lips. It’s a faint murmur like he’s only half there.

“Huh?” Yuri’s eyes shoot open, and he nearly jumps away from Balthus. Yeah, he didn’t really mean to say that, did he? It’s weird, though. If Balthus gets to kiss him, then Yuri gets to do the same, right? It’s just common sense, isn’t it?

“Hey, it’s alright. Nothin’ to forgive.” Yuri stiffens at his words, but Balthus isn’t finished, “You know that, right? I know there’s a lot goin’ on in that head of yours, but-”

“Balthus, you don’t-”

“I’m tellin’ you, you don’t gotta worry about it with me.”

There’s something about Yuri that he doesn’t quite get. Well, there’s a lot of things, but there’s one thing in particular, a thing that isn’t like anyone else down here. Yuri never… He never really takes things for himself. It’s kind of like he doesn’t really know how. Like, he doesn’t know how to want things the way other people do. When Balthus wants something, he isn’t shy about it. Hell, when Constance wants something, she basically tells the whole world how she’s gonna get it. Most people - normal people, that is - they work like that, like it's their hearts callin’ the shots.

Yuri’s different. He never seems to consider what he wants, only what other people need. It’s always about Abyss with him, and that’s not bad, especially for a leader. But it’s deeper than that. When Yuri wants something, it’s like he thinks real hard to find a reason he _can’t_ have it. It can be hard to tell through his polished looks and sharp tongue, but inside, he isn’t takin’ care of himself. Balthus is gonna have to fix that.

“Abyss comes first, even I got that.” Balthus grins. “Not gonna ask you for more than you can give, you know?”

“Abyss comes first.” Yuri snorts, “You’re really okay with that? That’s idiotic - I mean, have you actually thought about what that means for you?”

“Sure I have!” He laughs. And it’s true, partially. He’s thought about it a time or two. 

Charity, he gets. Community, he gets. Greater good, maybe it’s overrated, but he gets it. It’s this selflessness thing Balthus doesn’t get. It’s one thing to be generous, to help others - selflessness is something different. It’s giving little pieces of yourself to those in need, and at the end, you don’t got anything for yourself anymore. Yuri’s tiny flame is flickering low, has been since those church soldiers started attacking more and more. 

But Balthus can give. If it’d work, he’d cut a chunk out of himself to give to Yuri, so he doesn’t burn himself out for nothin’. And if Yuri keeps running empty, he can give more and more, his whole self, because when it comes to Yuri, in these four chipping stone walls, he always gives to Balthus just as good as he gets. It’s an even deal.

“So, then, if I decided that we were running out of space, and your quarters should be converted to a storeroom, you’d be fine with that?”

“You’d find me a new place to sleep, right?” Balthus wiggles an eyebrow.

“There’s room in the markets if you bring a bedroll.” He smirks.

“Ahh, c’mon, Boss!” Balthus sighs, “Still, I’d do it if ya asked.”

“Hmph.” Yuri forges on, unconvinced, “Okay, what if I had to lie to you to keep people safe. Wouldn’t that bother you?”

“Nah,” Balthus shrugs. Nobles are like that, always lying to each other for stuff. And he kind of gets it, tactically. Sometimes, your soldiers need to know the plan, but sometimes it’s easier if they don’t know. Yeah, of course he wants to know what’s going on. He wants to know how Yuri’s planning their next steps, but when it comes down to it… He trusts Yuri to lead them, for better or worse.

“Right, I should have remembered. You’re a fool…” Yuri deflates.

“If you wanted to lie to me, I’d probably never find out.” Yuri’s eyes snap up to his, fleeing from where he’s been toying with Balthus’s chain. It’s the right answer. Or, maybe it isn’t the right thing to say, but it’s true. Yuri’s the only one he can never read. He’s got a smokescreen ten feet deep, but the other thing is, Balthus doesn’t know how to tell what he sees, and what he wants to see with Yuri.

“What if I had to kill you? For Abyss?” His voice is oddly steady. Like he’s thought about it before.

“Guess I’d be upset, but I’d also be dead, so it doesn’t really matter, right?”

“It matters.” Yuri stares at him with those storm-colored eyes, and for a moment, his breath catches in his throat.

“Then…” Balthus thinks for a moment because honestly, he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around the concept. He’s always lived in the moment. Everything big, everything that takes time - it falls into the background. So to think about how he’d feel when he was dead, that doesn’t make any sense. But if he survived? Well, he’d probably be pretty pissed. And he’d fight his ass off, for the record! But people fight all the time, and years later, they still argue about who was right and wrong. It’s too big to call in the moment. If Yuri had reasons…

“Depends, I guess. If it helped Abyss, then… It’d hurt, but I’d get why you did it. Might take me a minute, but I’d understand.” Yuri’s still. He’s too quiet. “I wouldn’t hate you. Or try to haunt you or whatever.”

“Heh. I-Idiot.” Balthus caught the tremor in his voice, even if it was subtle. “That’s why you’d be dead.” He looks away for a moment, and Balthus opens his mouth to say something, but he’s still figuring out what when Yuri speaks again.

“Sure, yeah. What if I made you train as a Dancer?” Yuri flops back on the bed, pulling the blanket over himself. “We could use the extra morale, you know.”

“If you want me to dance for you, all you gotta do is ask, y’know.” Balthus grins, taking a swig from the waterskin before he caps it up and tosses it onto the desk.

He’s good now, or it seems like he is, but... It’s different. The air between them is different now. It’s heavier but also brighter in a way that sends sparks shooting under his skin. The kiss, the sound of his name in Yuri’s broken moans - that was new, and Balthus won’t be getting that out of his head any time soon - not that he wants to! 

But nothing’s changed. At least, that’s what he’ll pretend for now. Yuri huddles into the blankets, turning away from the dim lamplight. Balthus doesn’t have to say what he’s thinking.

“Hey…” He really doesn’t have to say it, but he really wants to. Fuck it.

“Hm?” Yuri sleepily sighs. Balthus should go, ‘cause it’s getting late, but…

“Should I stay?”

* * *

Don’t kiss a boy unless you’re serious.

_Yeah… Sorry, mom._

“Want me to stay?” Balthus’s voice shocks him out of a memory.

“I… Uh…” Yuri freezes, calculating. Of all the stupid things he’s said tonight, that wasn’t what he expected Balthus to say, not even remotely.

“Ah, I can go too, just, uh... offerin’.” He scratches his head, sheepish. He’s strikingly uncertain. That’s new.

Though, really, it shouldn’t be so unexpected. It’s been some time since Yuri felt so… weak. Vulnerability doesn’t look good on him. It’s unsurprising Balthus is concerned, but he’s fine. He will be, eventually. Lately, he hasn’t been himself when it comes to the man at his side. It’s not Balthus’s fault, but it certainly is troublesome.

There are countless problems with Balthus staying. For one, the bed’s too small, and it’s not what they _do_ anyway. It makes things complicated. It’s not in the terms of their deal, and it never would be, because Yuri isn’t actively trying to hurt him - either of them. If he stays, Yuri will feel what it’s like to share a bed with him. He’ll have to learn Balthus’s intimacy because it’s a different thing entirely than what they've been doing. He’ll be forced to feel what it’s like for Balthus to hold him, and the next morning, it’ll all be over, and he’ll be forced to live without him, knowing what it was like. Don’t get attached to a john. Not like that.

Goddess, he’s fucking this all up. With Balthus, sometimes it’s like he never learned a damn thing on the streets. There’s just something about him that’s intoxicatingly, idiotically genuine. Anyhow, it’s all too complex to put into brief words, and to explain it, he’d have to show his cards and reveal the depth of his true feelings. So instead, he says:

“I kick in my sleep. Not a good idea.”

“Been told I snore,” Balthus grins, “Plus, your kicks won’t hurt me too bad.”

“Are you calling me weak?” Yuri fights the urge to smile and loses. Why is it so easy with him? Easy to feel… free?

“Nah, just sayin’ I’m pretty strong.” Balthus leans over and rumbles in his ear, and it’s not _fair_ how that sends a surge of giddiness through him. It’s not pity. It can’t be, with how damned intimate he’s being. But it’s difficult to believe it’s genuine, even from him - even from Balthus, because he’s conditioned to block this part out. Don’t let him get too close. And the alternative is that Balthus either doesn’t know, or truly doesn’t care that he’s taken up with the devil.

It’s shitty, no dodging around that. It isn’t fair to Balthus that he’s cursed to be like this - so hesitating, so calculatingly reluctant to grant himself even the smallest of indulgences knowing he can’t possibly have earned them. This sunny, brash, foolish, lovable, genuine man deserves… Better? Well, Balthus is no saint, so maybe that isn’t quite right. Still, he deserves simplicity. Bravery, perhaps. Reciprocation, devotion, and damn it all, he’s earned honesty by now. He’s long since earned Yuri’s trust, if only he was a strong enough man to give it.

At times, Yuri’s soul burns alight, and he wishes he could take that leap. Somehow, that he could be so effortlessly, stupidly trusting, but... Heh, well, maybe in a different world. Not this one, though. Here, now, in this universe, Yuri can’t. He can’t be everything - or anything real for Balthus, because the idea of true vulnerability is just so foreign. It’s too strange by far. He can strip away his clothes, he can let the mead loosen his lips and lighten his heart, but that’s a small, shallow thing, and one he’s used to. For so many years, Yuri has shielded himself in paints and chiffon and armed himself with tact and deflection. He makes no flimsy moves, no reckless steps, because a mistake is unacceptable. Yuri leaves no cracks in his mask and no chinks in his armor. As though, through perfection, he might become human.

And… it fails. Of course it does. It’s a poor strategy, it was from the start. Even in the most elaborate costume, in an immaculate character of his own design, Yuri can’t fool himself. The coat of ice over his heart has grown so thick, he used to wonder if it would ever thaw. Would he even want it to? He barely remembers the hazy days of his innocent youth, when he was still too small to see the world for all its evils and ugliness.

He’s only held onto a few memories, little snippets here and there that remind him of simpler times. Once, he shared a few scavenged sweets with a younger girl on the streets after she scraped her knee. Heh, playing tag in that city could be pretty brutal, and young ones shouldn’t be running off alone. Darkness touches the corners of that memory. It should be fond, but Yuri now knows just how reckless they all were.

Start again. Another time, he and his mother celebrated the harvest with a few leftover spiced cakes a merchant and town gave them after the last night’s festival. Yuri remembers her laugh so clearly, and her smile, and the little light he felt in his chest. But that memory turns traitor on him too, for it only reminds him of the grim reality he’ll face in a matter of weeks if that fool has his way.

One more. He was older. Summer in the Kingdom, somewhere where the aspen trees glitter in the wind, and the air isn’t so muggy. He just lay in the grass, hidden amongst wild violets and daisies and watched the clouds roll by. For a moment, he fooled himself into believing everything would be alright.

Suffice to say it wasn’t. Still, it’s a good memory, even if it feels vaguely like playing pretend. Those memories are all so distant now. It’s been a while since he felt like that, light and airy, not so damn burdened with the weight of Abyss on his shoulder, and not so weary that he can feel the very last bits of his wick burning to ash. He’ll never be warm like Balthus, whose sun shines from his very core, but he wouldn’t mind standing in the light, even if it’s only for a moment.

“So you kick, and I snore. Neither of us sound like particularly good bedmates.” Not for the first time, he wonders just how much Balthus sees through those deep, burnt umber eyes of his. How much does he know? It has to be a calculated risk, and there are just too many variables. And this bed is small, and Yuri likes touching him. And the mead is still fogging up his eyes, so… So that’s what he can say.

“If you’re too drunk to make it back on your feet, then yeah, sure.” Why does his throat feel so dry? “You can stay.”

The lamp blinks out with a tiny puff of air. An empty mead bottle sits next to the waterskin. It’s dark, and Yuri clings to the little noises he can understand, grounding himself in the boring, minute details rather than the surreal dip in the mattress as Balthus slips under the covers to stay. He pulls the blankets a little closer, turning on his side, away from Balthus, because he can’t just _look_ at him. That would be weird. 

Chapped lips press into his shoulder and Goddess, why does that feel so intimate? Yuri doesn’t have a playbook for this part. A rogue arm curls around his waist, pulling Yuri right into Balthus’s chest. First, he notices the searing, impossible warmth of Balthus’s stupid bonfire of a body. Second, he remembers that Balthus is still, unfortunately, a fool.

“Take this shit off, idiot,” Yuri reaches over his shoulder, rattling Balthus’s chain. He means for it to sound a little more scathing, but he’s just so ridiculous - Yuri can’t help the little laugh that spills out. 

Or the inevitable little sigh that escapes him when Balthus’s warmth returns, or the shiver when Balthus’s breath fans right over his neck as he settles on the pillow, or his tiny shift to trap one of Balthus’s legs between his own. Somehow, Yuri can’t help but feel like he’s... Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's a guy gotta do to get some emotional vulnerability around here?
> 
> Allow me to shamelessly promote my other ongoing Balthuri fic, which has an actual plot and other characters.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22976452/chapters/54927274
> 
> Stay safe out there, folks. Or inside. Stay inside out there, folks.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Twitter :)  
> [@hanatamagos](https://twitter.com/hanatamagos)


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